The Curse Breakers
by TheHinkyPanda
Summary: Regina must keep them apart because she knows they are the curse breakers. Who would have thought the curse to end all curses would hinge on a mental patient and a lame pawnbroker? Rumpel/Belle
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Okay, I've decided to throw my hat in with all the wonderful Rumpel/Belle stories that are popping up. The chapters will be short but they will flow together to make an actual story and it will not be random one-shots. I'm hoping by keeping the chapters so short, I'll be able to update it as often as my other one, if not a little more. Be kind with your reviews...this is my lame attempt at being poetic.

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter One**

She remembers planning wars in her bare feet but it seems like a lifetime ago and then some. To pass the time, she takes off her hospital slippers and draws maps of mountains, rivers and sea with her toes in the dust on the floor.

_Ogres are not men..._

She wonders who would have said such a ridiculous statement. Of course ogres aren't men or else they wouldn't be called ogres. Did ogres even exist? Perhaps in that lifetime when she planned wars in her bare feet and not here, in this cell that smelled of bleach and loneliness. There were days when she wished they would give her medication like the other inmates. She can hear the nurses and orderlies in the other cells, twice a day, with fake, cheery voices.

"Take your vitamins. They'll make you feel better."

One day, she pounded on the walls and shouted, "They're not vitamins!" They didn't feed her for two days and so she stopped pounding on the walls and speaking truth. But she still wished for the medication. She would hide it and use it to place her armies on the dust maps. However, they don't medicate her here. They just wait for the insanity to take hold eventually but how can it when time stands still? The sun rises and sets but it's always the same day. That's why she's stopped keeping track. Instead, she dreams while awake and picks apart the dreams.

There's one in particular that always comes when she's lonely and frustrated by cold, white walls. She can never get a picture in her mind but she sees a man sitting at a spinning wheel. He just spins and won't look at her but she can hear dialogue, distant and whispery.

"_Why do you spin so much?" _

"_Because it helps me forget." _

"_Forget what?" _

"_I guess it worked." _

She tries so hard to place the man, the place, even the voices but she's always left with the feeling like she's pulling the gossamer wings off a butterfly. Whether it was a memory or a dream, it was something precious that shouldn't be torn apart by her fractured mind. So she goes back to drawing in the dust. She tried writing but the only thing her fingers wanted to create was a word she couldn't even pronounce. She tried writing it today, to see if her mind could produce it and without fail it did.

Rumpelstiltskin.

She hears the click-clack of the dark lady's heels coming down the hall. Very rarely does the lady come to call. She swipes the odd name out of the dust and curls up in the corner of her cell like the good, little girl she isn't. The woman opens the little window on it's rusty hinges and peers in with her dark tunnel eyes. They stare at each other for a few heartbeats (seven, she counts) and the dark lady speaks.

"Do you know why you're here, Miss French?"

Words want to come flying out of her mouth but they become lodged in her throat so she shakes her head instead. The words don't make sense to her anyway. The woman gives half a grin and the metal window shuts with finality. The sounds of heels on concrete dissipates and she's left alone again with her dust.

She goes back down to the floor and writes the words that are twisting her vocal cords, sharp and pointy, as if she swallowed a rose bush. But even written they still make no sense.

_I stole the heart of a beast and keep it in a chipped cup._

She shook her head, wiped the slate clean and decided to go back to planning wars in her bare feet because peace time never lasts.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter Two**

A brief rain shower has given Storybrooke a wet sheen and a brief hint of a rainbow. Regina thinks she has banished magic from this bubble she created but there were some pieces of magic no one can erase. And that is all Mr. Gold has to hold on to during this purgatory, the magic of ordinary things. Funny how people overlook the details...details of a deal, a bargain, a day.

Everyone in this town came to him for something at some point in time. Broken hearts, extravagant balls, freedom from some master or another...yes, they all came and bartered but there was only one who didn't want to change the deal after it was made. One that didn't fuss when the payment came due. One who bartered herself for others. One deal that he went back on and altered. The one deal that he regretted with bitterness and grief.

The magic of the rainbow disappeared and the dampness settled into his bad knee. Spring was starting to make its presence known which meant more damp weather, which meant more pain. Not exactly a happy ending he had envisioned for himself. But then again the curse was so Regina could get her happy ending, not his. He wondered how that was working out for her, with Henry's disdain and desire for Emma's company over hers. It made him smile slightly as he pulled the drapes back from his front windows. The rings scraped on the rod and seemed to dislodge a voice from a lifetime ago.

_It's almost spring. We should let some light in._

He stood there and could hear drapery give under the weight of a determined young woman's tugging. He could feel the weight of her in his arms and his heart stopped just like it did back then. If he had known, he wouldn't have dropped her as quickly as he had. He would have held her for all eternity.

_I'll put the curtains back up. _

"There's no need," he whispered to the floating dust motes. "I'll get used to it."

But he never did. Every year spring came, whether the land was enchanted or not, and he never got used to the new light, bright greens and shiny world that was revealed each year. Gazing out the front window of his Storybrooke home, through the haze of unshed tears, he caught a glimpse of the creeping spring. The thawing earth, the life reappearing in the trees and plants. Even the blue in the sky looked more vivid than he remembered. The only other time he remembered seeing nature's anomalies such as these was when she was in his home for those few months. She brought out the magic of ordinary things.

"Belle."

Was she out there, hidden somewhere in the depths of this small town? It was the first time he allowed himself the serious hope that Regina had lied to him. Oh, he had accused her when she first imparted the news but he couldn't rationalize over the sounds of his heart breaking and his spirit screaming. But then he had gone to her village, intent on proving the dark witch wrong but then he heard the whispers on the street of the poor girl who saved the town but threw herself to her death from the tower. No, the queen had not been lying then.

But what if...a thought struck him so hard the world tilted and his heart and lungs forgot how to work. He stumbled his way into a wing back chair and ran a shaky hand over his face. He never found out which tower she had thrown herself off. He never heard if her people thought she had fallen from his tower while Regina told him it was her father's. What if...what if...those two words ran a circuit in his mind. What if she was alive? What if she was damaged? What if she didn't remember him? What if Regina was telling the truth?

There were too many what ifs so he had to do what he always did when this problem arose. He had to find answers to these questions, starting with the most important one: was she still alive? The possibility took the strength out of his legs and the air out of his lungs. How could he explain all that time, that wasted time, when she needed him? But that was the coward rising up in him. No, he would not let the enemy win this round. He wasn't going to lock her up or send her away this time. He had a feeling, with Regina involved, he would be freeing her from a prison too many years too late.

And the coward and the Queen would not win this time.

_Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow. _

He certainly hoped so.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter Three**

She dreams of being a prisoner in a different kind of cell. A gilded cage with rich tapestries, odd collectables and the smell of magic. The bars that close her in are large stone walls and a mote. There are countless rooms to explore, investigate and discover. Swords and flasks, fleeces and golden thread. And a spinning wheel...always a spinning wheel. As she wanders her odd prison she finds it lacks the feeling of restriction. She feels more free in this prison than out of it.

There is an eerie presence to this rambling dream prison. It appears out of no where, opens doors with a flick of a hand and closes them the very same way. This thing, this apparition with no face, she both fears and cares for it as if her heart has grown to allow both emotions to coexist peaceably. There are some nights when she wanders the dark hallways, lost and frightened and it shows itself to guide her back to brightly lit rooms with books and chipped china. And other dreams, it drives her from the comfort of an arm chair into the dark, stone dungeons where she paces until time has passed and then she reclaims her arm chair while the thing sulks by the spinning wheel.

The spinning wheel...

_Why do you spin so much?_

_Because it helps me forget._

_Forget what?_

_I guess it worked. _

She opened her eyes with a start, a high pitched laugh ringing in her ears. This was the third day that the same piece of dialogue had been played in her mind. It felt like a dream, not quite a memory but who knew in this place? Maybe dreams were memories. It didn't seem to matter too much when the cobwebs seemed to grow in her mind instead of the corners of her room.

She stood on the cot that was bolted to the wall and stretched up on her toes. There were windows at the top of the room, just barely out of reach. She couldn't see much, even with her muscles stretched and straining. A few sprigs of grass were coming back alive and the smell of damp earth came through the walls. Could that be a hint of a rainbow in the narrow patch of sky? She tries to press her hand against the dirty glass, tries to feel the sun as it warms the outside world. But her muscles can't withstand the strain any more and she folds herself in half, knees against her chest in a tangle of sheets and blankets once more.

Slowly, she rocks herself back and forth. There is a hum in the walls this morning. A charge in the sunlight. The earth is moving. _He _is looking for her. She doesn't know who he might be but she's almost certain he knows that eerie presence that haunts the gilded prison she inhabits in her dreams. She unfurls herself from her position and paces the cell. There is no dust on the floor today so war plans will have to wait. Still, she kicks off her shoes and gets used to feel of the slick floor under her toes. She curls and flexes her feet. She studies her grip, her slide and her spring.

She is getting ready to run.

* * *

><p>He doesn't know where to start so he goes back to the beginning: her father. The man was still recovering in the hospital and it would take some convincing to make sure he wouldn't press charges. But then again, he was a devil with a cane and a silver tongue. If anyone could convince him to talk and not have to suffer the legal consequences, it was him. He would have better luck with Moe French then he would Regina, and if he could keep that black witch out of this, he would. He had a feeling by the time he burrowed down to the end of this mystery, he would find Regina there. It wouldn't be the first time such events had turned in that direction. There was that mermaid...<p>

A small movement caught his attention as he made his way through the hospital courtyard. There were a line of small windows, barely at ground level. He stepped closer to the windows, thinking his eyes are playing tricks on him and he's not seeing a small hand pressed against the glass. In a flash it was gone and with a shake of his head, he moved on to pay a visit to a battered rose vendor.


	4. Chapter 4

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 4**

Emotional entanglements and dangerous paths...didn't he just warn a certain new Sheriff about such things? He hated having to take his own advice but he had to remind himself of the pay off, the end of the deal so to speak. Which brought him to Moe French, bandaged and casted, parked in his small hospital room in a wheelchair and no where to go, Mr. Gold leaves his cane at the door. He limps into the room, open hands extended.

"I come in peace," he quips but French's eyes haven't stopped screaming. A thin sheen of sweat covers the man's face and the stench of fear fills up the room. He tries to stand on his own, stay above eye level, but his knee protests too much, and he's forced to settle on the windowsill. Deals, leverage and a hint of monetary forgiveness run through his mind and land on his tongue when French beats him to it.

"How did you know?"

Gold thinks it the roughness of French's voice or the age of his own ears that make the words garbled, that it has nothing to do with the wings of hope beating against his rib cage. He schools his face into a look of confusion and leans closer to the man. "I'm sorry, what?"

French swallows and starts to shake in the plaster. "How did you know I shut her away?"

And Gold thinks that he's about to have stroke because his vision splinters and a roaring fills his ears. He's certain the curse had just broken and the world was having to put itself right again. But the world didn't need to right itself and the rushing sound he was hearing was the blowback of the words that had broken through his teeth in a dark cabin nestled in the woods.

_You were her father. You had her love and you shut her out. And now she's gone forever..._

But she wasn't gone forever and he was in the middle of making the most important deal of his life. Forcing himself to pull air into his lungs, he waited patiently for his vision and hearing to return. He settled into the character of the deal broker, the one who wasn't emotionally invested in the bargain even though what was left of his heart was in the fine print.

"I own the town, Mr. French." He studied his fingernails, making sure his hands weren't shaking. "It's very hard for something to be done here that I don't know about."

"What do you want from me?"

_Your life. _He choked down those words. He needed to speak in generalities and let French present the complete picture. "Details."

Tears started to well up and spill over French's eyes. "You have to understand, I didn't know what to do with Annabelle. After her mother died, she just wasn't...right anymore."

Gold reminded himself to breathe in through his nose and out through his mouth. "Go on."

"Then she started going on about curses, spells and magic. Said she wanted to go back to a castle with a monster inside of it. I was afraid she would try to leave town, looking for this castle. What was I suppose to do?"

_Love her. _

"I went to the Mayor for help."

"Of course you did." Gold pushed himself up from the window ledge. He knew where to look now, knew what strings to pull of Emma Swan's so that she can do the work while he sits back and keeps her majesty busy. That was the trick with slight of hand, distract people with your left hand so they can't see what you're doing with your right. Magic without the price.

"Wait, that's all you wanted, Gold?"

"No, there's one more thing that I want from you. I'll give you your van back, clear your debts with me and you will give me this one thing I ask."

"What is it?"

"Your silence. And if you don't give it willingly, I will come back and take it from you."

Tears still streaked French's face. "You'll kill me?"

Gold smiled. "I'll cut out your tongue."


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Note: **I just wanted to say a huge thank you to all the people who have read this story so far. Thank you for the wonderful reviews and all the alerts! I'm truly blown away by it!

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter Five**

She wants to know her name. She knows she has one, everyone did. Even the dark lady referred to her as "Miss French" though it didn't feel right. It wasn't her name but she didn't know what it was. There is some dust on the floor today, some that the janitor missed. Maybe her name was somehow tied into the strange name that her fingers continually itched to write.

_Rumpelstiltskin._

She stared at the letters, the lines and curves. It was familiar to her, tied up somewhere between her brain and her mouth. But it wasn't her name. Frustration and anger filled her chest, strangling out the air in her lungs. She curled her hands into fists, scraping her nails against the vinyl floor as her hands closed like flowers at night. She wanted to scream, she wanted to cry...she wanted a name.

"Rumpelstiltskin!"

The word came flying out of her mouth and she quickly slammed her hand over her mouth. Shock froze her muscles and her ears became super sensitive to the sound of soft soled shoes coming to check on her. But no one came and slowly she stood to her feet, still not sure what that word meant. Was it an oath, a swear word? A blessing perhaps, a greeting between two friends on the street?

The word was still drawn in the dust at her feet. There was a darkness woven through the letters, a caution to those who must deal with whatever it was. But when she turned her head to the side, there was also some whimsey to be found in the rolling "m" and the "p." Turning the other way, harshness leapt out at her, like angry words and snarling teeth, with the "t" and the "k."

_That means it's true love!_

_Shut the hell up!_

_Why won't you believe me?_

She raises her arms, wraps them around herself. She feels the pressure of someone holding her there, shaking her. Pressing her fingers into her arms, she tries to imitate the motion until she's shaking herself till her teeth snap together. Finally she gives up, sobbing and angry, curled up on the floor. The rise and fall of the letters taunt her from where she lies on eye level with them. Turning her face into the floor, she whispers into the cold ground.

"No one can ever, ever love me."

And she thinks it is truth.

The sun moves its way across the floor and she continues to lie there and watch it. Her ear is pressed to the ground and that is why she can hear them. Voices down the hall and around the corner. There's three of them, arguing but not loud or close enough for her to hear the words. Then it starts...the footsteps start coming her way but there is another sound she can't place.

Step...thump...step...thump...step...thump.

Standing up, she realizes what it is: war drums. She kicks off her shoes, curls her toes, ready to spring. The time for war plans is past, it is time to run. But as the sound nears, she realizes it is not at all exciting as war drums. It's a mere walking stick for a man with a limp. There will be no war today so she turns to her cot and half-heartedly tries to straighten the blankets.

The lock on her door unlatches and she spins like a cornered cat, claws extended and ready to defend herself. That door has never opened the entire time she has inhabited this cell. She is so certain that the walls sprung up themselves around her like magic at some strange point of time in her life. Slowly the doors opens and she can't breathe for the rush of stagnant air that forces its way into the small room.

And _he's _standing there in the doorway. Leaning on a cane, eyes wide and filled with more hope than she had ever seen. But things are not right with him...his skin is all wrong and he's not dressed in the pelts of children...no, no, that was a quip. She doesn't recognize him but she knows him, deep down in places that have been cut off from her, she knows him. If only he knew her...

"Belle."

The whisper echoes off the walls until it reverberates in her skull and she can hear nothing else. She does have a name and it is Belle. Joy breaks through the cacophony in her mind and she smiles. His dark eyes drop to the floor and she follows them. He's staring at the word she had written in the dust and she finally understands its meaning. It drops her to her knees and then prostrate on the floor, weeping with joy.

_Rumpelstiltskin._

_Savior. _

* * *

><p>(And no, this is not the end.)<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Note: **This one is a little longer...a thank you to all the alerts and reviews! You guys are just awesome and continue to blow me away! I am now up on tumblr, you can find me at TheHinkyPanda. If you want me to try my hand at a prompt for you, it can be any character from Once Upon A Time, not just Rumpel/Belle, I'll try. Or if you just want to bug me, that's fine too. :-)

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter Six**

When he goes to see Sheriff Swan, he's willing to use up the favor she owes him but that doesn't mean he hasn't come prepared. Giving up a favor from a savior is no light matter. He shows her the two papers he has forged himself, one is a definite forgery, the other is perfection on paper. She looks over them carefully, spread out on the scarred desk in the Sheriff's Office, a line appearing between her eyes. Finally she settles back in the chair, sympathy in her eyes but a firm set to her mouth. A paradox in blonde hair and boots.

"So that's the 'she' that had you so enraged. What happened?"

He plays the part of a stricken man and it's not his first performance. Like an expert chemist, he mixes parts of grief, sorrow and a glimmer of hope and sprinkles it on his words and posture. "She came to work in my store and we fell in love. She knew people wouldn't understand, her father first and foremost. We eloped and when she went to tell her father, I never saw her again." He stared at the floor, fiddled with his cane and eventually turned his eyes to the window. "They told me she was killed in a car accident on her way back...home." He hated how he still choked on that word.

"What makes you think she's still alive?"

"Sources."

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "You went to see French in the hospital against legal advice."

"I didn't say that."

"Of course not. Where do you think she is now?"

"I was told she's being kept in the severe mental wing at the hospital." He was surprised at how he didn't have fake the disgust in his voice.

Emma stared at the two documents in front of her, frowning and thinking so loudly it was starting to interfere with his own thoughts. Finally, she stood up, hands on her hips, full of swagger than only a lowly shepherd turned hero prince could have accomplished. "Here's my deal. I will help you get her out of the ward, but only if Dr. Hopper clears her mentally."

"What's the price?"

An odd shift happens, almost unnoticeable and Emma goes from confident to almost sad. "You give her a home."

He notices she, too trips on the word but files that bit of information away for a later time because she is still negotiating a deal he knows he will already take.

"You take care of her for the rest of her life. You will treat her with kindness and respect."

Old, dusty words shake themselves off in his ears. _So, she needs a...home?_And so she will have one. "Of course, Sheriff Swan."

A small smile quirks up at the corner of her mouth. "The moment you treat her cruelly or kick her out of your home, I run a front page story in the newspaper about your forged marriage certificate to a mental patient."

He extends his hand to seal the deal, confident that Emma just may have what it takes to save them all.

* * *

><p>It seems like enough time has passed for another world to have sprung into existence before he's standing in front of the door to <em>her<em> cell. He has waited for Dr. Hopper to finish a therapy session, for Emma to pick up an extra set of clothes for Belle, and bit his tongue while Emma argued his case to the ice block of a ward nurse. But now, time has ceased once more and he wonders if he can even open the door. Perhaps it would be better to just leave her here, insane but safe. If he brings her out of this prison, he's releasing her into a war zone. Emma must notice his hesitation because she shifts on her feet.

"We'll take her out back, in regular clothes and put her in the back of my car. She'll go directly to your home."

But Regina will know. The dragon is always aware when someone steals one of its trinkets. Even with that thought in his mind, he pulls open the door anyway. He is a selfish man with trinkets of his own and this one has been missing for far too long.

_Do the brave thing, and bravery will follow._

The afternoon sun blinds him momentarily, the bright light bouncing off the white walls inside and he's certain she must be blind by now. But his vision clears and he sees her, standing barefoot in a hospital gown but all he can remember is that confident girl, bare shouldered and draped in gold, planning wars with men and toy castles.

Her eyes are different, clouded with fake memories and fear. Her face is scrubbed clean of the rouge she would wear to dust books, tea sets and puppets. He misses the smell of roses that seemed to cling to her skin and reach out for him when he passed too close to her. But she's standing there, the Queen of the padded cells, as if she's still standing in her father's war room.

"Belle." The name drops off his lips and he's certain there's no sweeter sound to be found. He's not sure if that will be enough to jog her memories, he's dropped words like "charming" around David to no avail, but somehow it connects with her. She smiles like he's given her the world and he can't help but smile back.

When her eyes dart to the floor, he sees it...his name written in the dust. His _real _name. The smile disappears from his face and when they make eye contact again, so does hers. She does remember. Not only is she alive but she does remember. He watches as the realization buckles her knees and soon she is sobbing into the floor. His old friend fear wraps his gnarled arms around his chest and starts to squeeze out what little bravery is left in him.

She remembers...she remembers the yelling, the destruction, the rejection.

"_Go." _

"_What?" _

"_I don't want you anymore, dearie." _

But he did, more than anything. So he did what he should have done back then, he moved. It was shaky, jerky but he was moving forward. He discovered that fear still had a grip on him, but couldn't control him. Perhaps that was the trick, finding a way to work within the fear to accomplish the brave goal in spite of it. He dropped the cane, the sound sharp and hollow in the room, and forced his bad leg in submission so he could join Belle on the floor.

He never thought, during his entire supernaturally long life, that bravery would start on his knees.


	7. Chapter 7

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter Seven**

She understands procedure. It is the only reason she allows the blond haired woman to assist her with changing from her hospital gown to equally unfitting clothes. She is unaccustomed to wearing pants but doesn't know why. Instead, she longs for a blue dress and heels, rosewater and rouge...and a chipped cup. She closes her eyes as the last button on the shirt is closed and slips her feet back into the hospital slippers. It's not right, nothing fits and even though she is overwhelmed at the thought of being rescued from her tower, she still wants out of her skin, out of the prison of her mind.

"Are you alright?"

She wasn't sure so she didn't answer.

"Miss French?"

"I want to go..." home, perhaps? Was that the right word? Where was home for her anymore? She remembers leaving one home, decimated and in rubble, and making another elsewhere but the details are too fuzzy and she feels like ripping out chunks of her hair until the memories come with them.

"Mr. Gold has offered to take you to his home. If you don't want to go with him, you don't have to. We can find someplace else for you to live."

She knows that's not his name, not his real name but she knows, somewhere in the dusty corners of her mind where light hasn't shone in ages, of his schemes and deals. She remembers being part of one a lifetime ago but once more the details are fleeting and scattered like dried rose petals. She looks over the shoulder of the woman helping her, offering her assistance, to the man with the cane standing by the door. Mr. Gold...

"He's traded his skin for a name."

The blond woman is looking at her with concern and a touch of fear. It makes her angry, these people who have come to help her but won't let her run. She wants, _needs_, to run. They have taken too much time already. The sleeping dragon will awaken and they will still be standing there dressing her in the strange clothes that don't fit. She doesn't want to die in these borrowed clothes. She catches the dark eyes of her savior and realizes he too wishes to run and something jostles around in her mind. She chases it down, snatching it in her hands to get a clear look at it.

"_What did you do, nail them down?"_

"_Yeah." _

_She laughs and tugs...and tugs...and finally the fabric gives but it is so heavy, so ornate that it sweeps her off the ladder, snatching her up in it's rapid descent from the window. She braces herself for the hardness of the floor but finds a softer landing in her captor's arms. She had fallen so perfectly she wonders if he had magicked her there. She watches his eyes, starting to tear from the influx of sunlight, until they turn to her. _

_She expects anger but all she sees is fear. She expects shouting, disparaging remarks about how she's going to have to rehang the curtains and nail them down once more, but all she hears is his labored breathing, words rattling around in his throat unable to make their way out. So she does what comes naturally whenever one of her father's men had offered her a steady hand or to carry her basket for her._

"_Thank you." _

_His muscles tense, coiled like springs in a clock. He looks like he's about to bolt until he realizes he's still holding her. It wouldn't be much of a getaway if he took her with him and it wouldn't be very fast either, she wants to tell him but then his arms are gone from underneath her. The sudden movement leaves her reeling and unsteady on her feet. She teeters back and forth until her center of balance is gained and she notices his movements are jerky, random while his hands are failing and she's seeing him for the first time._

_There is no monster in this castle, lurking in the shadows of a spinning wheel. There is no evil sorcerer bent on stealing children away from their homes to skin them. There is just a man...a scared man who doesn't know what to do with kindness and sunlight. She thinks of all the times she had to stop Gaston from pawing at her in dark corners of her father's stronghold and yet she finds the "monster" who saved her town to be baffled by something as innocent at this. She smiles to herself, apparently he doesn't know what to do with a girl in his arms either. _

_His reaction was to run from her. _

It was the first real memory that she was able to handle, remember with the details and emotions all tied together neatly. It still didn't make much sense to her, but it was hers. And looking at Mr. Gold in light of this new memory, she realized he was hers as well. It was time for them to run together now.

"I want to go home with Mr. Gold," she announced with as much force and authority that she could muster while wearing someone else's clothes. "I just hope you haven't nailed down the curtains there too."

And he laughs, a genuine sound that rattles up from deep inside a forgotten place in himself. She is glad that she's not the only one with those places inside of them. But the nurse comes to door, stern and menacing.

"I am here to inform you the Mayor is on her way."

"You called her?" The blonde woman is outraged.

"Of course," the witch in white responds. "She is Miss French's guardian."

Mr. Gold holds up his hands. "Sheriff Swan, Dr. Hopper, please take Miss French to my home. I will stay and wait for the Mayor."

"Only the Mayor can release her."

But Gold turns his back to her but Belle can hear hissed threats and knows the hidden monster is making himself known. Apparently it is enough and the nurse leaves quickly on quiet shoes. Gold turns back to them and motions for them to make their escape. And soon she is ushered out by the blond woman and a man standing in the hallway with kind eyes. She gives Mr. Gold a pleading look, she doesn't like leaving him in her prison. Not again, though she can't quite remember the first time this had happened. But he gives her a smile, a promise that she will see him later. Because, after all, there are procedures, and she understands this.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes: **This chapter practically wrote itself...I love these two when they interact.

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 8**

He sits and waits for her in Belle's cell. The door is open, ready for her angry arrival and he is unafraid. She has cursed herself out of magic so the only weapons between them now is words and threats. Words...he smiles at this. He has been wielding words in the place of swords and shields before Her Majesty was walking. He had saved countries just by using words. But he hears the angry click-clack of her heels coming down the hallway. He knows she is going to be all flash, teeth and growls dressed in expensive silk and pearls.

And he is unafraid.

"I suppose I was wrong, dearie," he says when he knows she's in hearing distance. She rounds the corner of the doorway with eyes set like onyx stones and he can hear her teeth grinding against each other. "It appears things have changed between us."

"Where is she?"

He studies the head of his cane. "So how exactly did you get your filthy hands on her? Were you waiting for her when she left my castle? Or did you convince her father after she returned home that she was in the need of...what did you call it? Oh yes, cleansing."

Regina's shoulders start shaking. "Where is she?"

"You were always a smart girl, Regina. I'm sure once your rage passes, you'll figure out where she is."

A small smile creeps across her face though the anger remains. "You're going to keep her in your home? How...quaint."

"And quite difficult to get to as well."

"Not for the Mayor."

"Are you forgetting who owns the town? You only run it, dear."

The smile falters. "Are you forgetting the curse? The curse you wrote that takes away everyone's happy ending except for the person who enacts it? You can't have your happy ending."

It's his turn to smile. "And are you forgetting that wonderful bit of information that you gave Belle on the road? True love's kiss can break any curse. But that's not the whole story, is it, Regina? There are other things that break curses."

"Not in this town."

"Especially in this town." He stood up and meandered over to her. She looked like she was ready to rip out his heart and shove it down his throat. But this dragon had teeth as well and it was time for him to show them to her. "You will not harm Belle anymore, by words or deeds. She is off limits to you for the rest of her life."

Regina closed her eyes, her hands clenched into fists. She knew what was coming next and could do nothing to stop it as Gold leaned so close to her he could smell the hate and sin that roiled off her.

"Please."

And with that, he stalked out of the cell to go home, home to his broken Belle. Her safety was not a sure thing, he knew that but at least Regina herself couldn't touch her again. Everyone thought he was a master because he could spin straw into gold but really, it was words that were more powerful than anything. Words could be used to cut down or protect, it was beauty all their own and he wielded them expertly.


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: **I can't even begin to express how shocked I am by the reviews and alerts for this story! I just can't even begin to thank everyone for their kindness...you really have just blown me away. I hope I continue to please!

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 9**

She remembers crimson skies and crumpling ramparts. She remembers the sounds of war, screams of terror and the blood of her people slicking the cobblestones. Then she remembers quiet and darkness, cold dungeons and extravagant rooms. And Rumplestiltskin...her hands were shaking so badly, she was afraid she was going to drop another mug. Mr. Gold was already down one thanks to her nerves.

"Here, why don't you have a seat in the other room and I'll carry this in for you?"

Belle nodded to the man with the kind, pale eyes. Dr. Hopper, she remembers that. As she passes through the rooms to the front one, where Emma is pacing back and forth in front of the windows, she smiles at how Gold still is a collector of things. She takes it as a positive sign that who she was back in that other time can still be reclaimed.

She watches looks being passed between her two guardians and knows what the unspoken questions are. Is she insane? Is she dangerous? The thought of excusing herself to return to the kitchen only to come back with a butcher's cleaver just to see their reactions crosses her mind but she quickly dismisses the thought. If she gives them reason to believe she is mentally unhinged they may take her back to that underground prison with the white walls and she has seen the inside of too many cells, thank you very much. So she sits in the parlor of a semi-stranger's home, sipping tea from a mug that is not hers and acts very much as the lady of the home.

Dr. Hopper finally clears his throat, knocking out all the questions that he wants to ask but doesn't. "Can you tell me what you remember, Miss French?"

Her thoughts are all fractured, slivers and flashes like pieces of a broken mirror. She can tell him about the spinning wheel, a dark lady with a lying tongue, angry outbursts and shouting, dungeons, cells and towers. A small smile creeps up on her as she also remembers nailed down curtains and a man's unease when he finally realizes a woman is in his home with one foot inside his heart. But Dr. Hopper is waiting for an answer, even Emma has stopped her insistent pacing to listen.

"I'm afraid I don't remember much," she offers up with a dainty frown. "I remember day in and day out of being in that cell but nothing of life outside it."

"How long were you in there?" Emma asks.

"There was no way to keep track."

Dr. Hopper frowns. "How often did they let you out for therapy sessions? Or excursions?"

"Never." Bitterness crept into her voice, surprising herself. "They never let me out."

"I'm so sorry," Dr. Hopper whispers and Belle shakes her head, realizing they are the wrong words from the wrong person.

"You didn't lock me up in there."

"No," Emma says, "but I'm going to find out who did."

Belle starts to tell her about the dark lady but bites her tongue. This is a new world in which she knows nothing. The only one she can trust, the only one who will be her guide is not present. So she sits quietly and sips her tea. Emma goes back to pacing, Dr. Hopper switches from watching her to getting lost in thought until there is a familiar sound of a man with a cane making his way up the porch stairs. Belle releases a long breath and closes her eyes. She still doesn't understand why these thoughts cross her mind, but she accepts them readily because of their familiarity.

_He's home. I'm safe._


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: **This one is not as good as the others one...I have no idea why. It was an absolute bear to write. Ah well...they all can't be easy, I suppose.

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter Ten**

He was trying to listen to what Dr. Hopper was telling him but Belle was in his home...again. Once he heard the words "non-aggressive" and "amnesia," quite frankly, he didn't care much what else followed. Emma had to let her stay now, that was part of the deal. She could stay, she was going to stay and now he wanted these other people, these interlopers out. It was getting harder to look interested in the psycho-babble the cricket was spewing. Gold's nerves were stripped bare because of Hopper's voice and Emma's stares but he had to keep his mouth shut and teeth clenched. He couldn't give Emma an excuse to take Belle away now.

Belle...he still couldn't believe she was alive and in his home at this moment. And this red-headed, bespectacled fool would not shut up. And Emma would not stop trying to read him and his grip on his cane continued to tighten, the metal starting to cut into his palm. His knee was throbbing and all he wanted to do was have a cup of tea, in the chipped cup to see if she would remember. He could feel his resolve starting to waiver when Belle appeared at Emma's elbow.

"I'm sure this discussion can take place tomorrow." She was twisting the corners of the blue oxford shirt that was two sizes too big. "I'm very tired and would like to rest."

If it was possible, he fell in love with her more. Dr. Hopper and Emma were more than willing to oblige Belle's wishes and quickly excused themselves but as soon as the front door closed, he wished they would come back. There was a chasm that had opened up between them, just a few feet across but a thousand years deep. He had to build bridge, a way across the distance but he couldn't find any in his arsenal of words. Words usually failed him when it came to her.

But then, Belle smiled and a ghost of a bridge started to form. "You're different from what I remember."

"How so?" His voice sounds its age, old and rough.

Her eyes narrow slightly as she studies him. "It's difficult to say. Things are very...jumbled."

"Take your time." He fears they don't have much, though. Regina will not let any happy ending exists in her town and she will come after them. Well, him directly and Belle, he knows Regina is planning around his demand. But he's learned his lesson from the last time. He will cherish every minute, he will absorb them and allow this woman to push the coward out of him.

"I don't remember the cane," she says finally.

He tries to hide his shame. "That is new, yes."

She's still twisting the corner of her shirt. "Have, uh, have I changed at all?"

He now has an excuse to study her, to outright stare and take in the details. Her face is scrubbed clean, her hair is completely loose. She's in a blue shirt and jeans instead of a blue dress. But as he gets closer to her, he realizes she still smells like roses. And those eyes...the last time he had seen them, they were practically on fire with anger and indignation due to his false rejection. Now, they were scared and pleading so loudly he could hear her thoughts. _Know me...please, know me. _

"You haven't changed a bit."

She makes a small, non-committal noise, a half smile and turns her head. "I have a feeling you're not being completely honest."

"We'll see."

He watches her move through the front room and still can not believe that she is really there, moving around his space once more. He can tell there are missing pieces, she's too nervous, twitchy almost. She looks more like a lost little girl than the brave beauty from her father's war room. But the fact that she remembers slivers is a very good sign. He just has to wait for opportunities to present themselves...

"I'm terribly sorry," she interrupts his thoughts.

"About what, dear?"

She holds up a coffee mug that she had been drinking from and grimaces. "I broke your other one earlier."

The words fall from his mouth as if they had been rehearsed. "It's just a cup."

She smiles in relief and moves off towards the kitchen.

And his heart fissures slightly because she doesn't remember.


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Note: **I love Belle...so much nicer to write than Mr. Gold, who apparently didn't want to be written these last few days...obstinate little imp. He better get his act together for the next chapter. Thank you everyone for your kind reviews, you treat me so much nicer than I deserve.

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 11**

She can't sleep. The house is too full of noise, boards creaking and foundations settling, memories that are not her own bouncing around the walls and she can't remember the last time she slept in a real bed. It's too soft, too many blankets and she can't see the dust underneath it. She kicks off the covers, her nerves raw and jumbled memories crashing into each other in her mind. She stands in the middle of the bedroom, barefoot and in more borrowed clothes, searching for something familiar.

Yanking the thick quilt from the bed, she finds a corner and curls up on the floor, pulling the quilt around her. The wood floors underneath her are uneven and cold. The two walls close in around her and she realizes what it is she doesn't like: space. There is too much empty space in the room. Confined to the floor, boxed in by walls is when her mind finally settles. But she hears movements from the floor below hers.

He is pacing and not in straight lines. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she remembers how everything he did always seemed to be in straight lines until he dropped his guard and then randomness would take over his motions. She can tell from the echoes that he's making circles around his room and he's not using his cane. He's trying to keep quiet and she smiles at his insomniac thoughtfulness. Closing her eyes, she starts to fall asleep but soon realizes the demons she can keep at bay when she's awake break through their prison when she falls asleep.

The wood beneath her turns into unforgiving stone. The open space of the ornate room shrinks down to small cell with slits for windows. The dark lady dressed in black and diamonds visits her there and tortures her, not with fire and scourges, but with lies mixed with truths.

"_Tell me again, how did that kiss work out for you?" She sighs pitifully. "Oh yes, you're here, aren't you? Not exactly a happy ending with your prince, is it?" _

_She doesn't know what the lady wants from her. She has nothing to give her, not anymore, so she stares out the narrow window where one star is visible. _

"_So much for true love," the dark lady scoffs and Belle won't take it anymore. _

"_It was true love." _

_This causes the dark lady to pause. "Excuse me?" _

_Belle pushes herself up so she's standing. It's no different than when she faced off with Rumpelstiltskin. Different cell, different empty heart, same truth. "It was true love. The curse was breaking. If it's true, that you wanted his power for yourself and I'm the one broke his curse, that makes me more powerful than you." _

_The dark lady sneers and strikes Belle across the face but this nightmare is different, because Belle is different. She's already been released from her prison in reality and so in her dream she does something that she has never done before...she fights back. _

By the time she emerges from the dream world, Belle realizes she's snarling and gouging the floorboards with her nails. Fury, two lifetimes long, are erupting out of her and she was wants her revenge. But the dark lady isn't there for her to fight, there is only a quilt in a room full of things that aren't hers. She wants to rent her clothes but they aren't hers either. Even her memories are turning against her, her mind buzzing like a swarm of angry bees. So she slams both fists down on the floor and lets out a scream that starts in her soul and is forced out of her throat.

She is sobbing uncontrollably by the time Gold makes his way into her room. Through her mental shrieks, she can hear him whispering her name and platitudes, pretty promises and assurances. She lies still as he disentangles her from the quilt and takes no offense when he gathers her in his arms, pressing her close to his chest. Her tears slowly stop and she twists her fingers into the fabric of his shirt. She wants to apologize but she hiccups instead and he laughs slightly.

"Don't ever let me go," she whispers.

"Never," he responds, not even hesitating a second.

She closes her eyes, grasping at the memory of falling curtains, sunlight and him but she can still hear the dark lady's voice whispering in her mind.

"_Tell me again, how did that kiss work out for you?" _

"I'm here, aren't I?" she whispers back. Peacetimes never last and she will fight for her happy ending this time.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Note: **100 alerts! 45 reviews! You guys just blow me away! I can't believe it! And I apologize for the delay...a cold I have been fighting has finally caught up to me and all I end up doing is staring at the computer screen. Ah well...

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 12**

His body was aching, his knee on fire, but he refused to move from the uncomfortable position on the floor. Belle had burrowed her head into his chest and had murmured herself to sleep with words he couldn't understand. She had slept one too many nights in his home in less than comfortable accommodations and he would be damned if he let her continue in that manner this time.

Sleep wouldn't come to him, not with this much pain in his muscles and bones, but he was content with the quiet time to remember. With her safe, mostly whole and still carrying the scent of roses, he could remember without the pain and blade sharp guilt. Oh, he was still to blame for many things that transpired, but he could no longer add her death to that list now, not when she was warm and breathing in his arms now. And he can savor the good memories...

_The sun is reflecting off the spring snow, winter's final grip before it releases the earth to warmer weather, and the light floods into the castle from every window. He pours himself a cup of tea that she's just brought to him and tries to get used to the copious amounts of sunlight that are still stinging his eyes. She's taken down every single drapery and brought light into a very dark castle. She has brought light into a very dark heart as well and he's found something that he fears more than Ogres and a lost son. _

_He hears the rustle of her skirts and automatically starts moving away from the sound but she follows him. He's found this usually means she wants to talk, ask questions about certain things in his collection. He bites back a smile at the memory of how, only being here one week, she marched up to him while he was spinning and announced that the pair of puppets were far too frightening to her and if he wanted them dusted he must do it himself. He had a harsh retort for her but when he turned around to see her eyes glistening and her rigid posture, he merely nodded and now he dusts that particular trophy himself. _

_Thinking she may have another issue to discuss with him, he does turn to face and is surprised to see her seated on the table, fixing her dress and folding her hands in her lap. It seems all she wants is a simple chat and he feels indulgent at the moment, so he doesn't retreat but stands waiting for her to start the conversation. After a few seconds, she finds her courage (something he envies jealously) and speaks. _

"_Why did you want me here?" _

_He thought about telling her the truth, how he wanted something a little more interactive than wooden puppets, swords and a spinning wheel. But instead, he deflects. "The place was filthy." _

"_I think you were lonely." _

_The statement is said with certainty and a hint of knowing. Yes, he's sure she knew of loneliness. As far as he could tell, she was the only woman left in that particular stronghold. And if she wasn't used to being alone, she wouldn't have adapted so well to wandering the halls and rooms of such a place as his as well as she had. He had expected more tears and considerably noise but hardly had any from her. _

"_I mean, any man would be lonely," she continues. _

"_I'm not a man," he answers, thinking that reminding her of what he was might halt this conversation from going deeper into personal waters. _

_But then the thought strikes him that perhaps that was what still made him a man. Before he is fully aware of what his body is doing, he's leaning up against the table, far too close to her and the scent of roses. The words "moth" and "flame" come to mind but he pushes them aside as his thumb catches on the chip in the teacup. At first, he thinks that's all she wanted to say and she will hop down from the table and move about her business but she doesn't, and he's completely unprepared for the words that come out of her mouth next. _

"_So, I've had a couple months to look around and upstairs..." _

Only Belle would have had the courage to ask him about the child's clothing and she was the only one that he had been tempted to tell the whole sordid tale to that awfully bright spring morning. Only Belle...his Belle.

Early morning light was starting to creep its way across the floorboards and she would wake soon. Knowing her, she would apologize for sleeping on him, keeping him on the floor in a mess of a quilt and in his own home after all. Or she wouldn't say anything at all...this was not his old Belle. This Belle was a new creation, something that emerged from imprisonment and God knows what else. The curse had tried to give her a new identity but she was fighting that, brave girl that she was.

No, he didn't know what this new Belle was going to do, so he took his opportunity to press a kiss to her forehead and hold her close, remembering the woman who had sat on his table and tried to understand him.


	13. Chapter 13

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 13**

In her dreams, she's back in a dungeon. A cold, damp, stone dungeon...with a tea set in it. She doesn't quite understand that but Belle decides that's what makes it a dream. The other strange anomaly is that she is not afraid. She is sitting there, waiting for a storm pass though she can hear no rain falling against the castle walls. There is a different storm, a storm that is brewing inside and it is laying waste to anything and everything. The power behind it is one of the most powerful things she has come to know: fear. She never realized just how strong that emotion could be until she saw it in his face, saw it overcome love.

So she sighs and waits. He will come back when his fury is over, order her to clean the mess of broken glass and pottery. She'll be up half the night once more in the wake of ill tempers and she doesn't care. She can't seem to bring herself to care this time. His anger, no, his fear, tells her everything she needs to know. He loves her just as much as she does him but it is a commodity he can not put on his shelf and dust and therefore, he does not know what to do with it. So he rages and she sits tucked away from the destruction. It's an odd act of caring on his part.

The air stops crackling and the charge of lightning dissipates. The storm is over and calm is starting to seep back into the castle. She doesn't know when he'll come to release her but she's certain he will. She feels the worst is over and it is not long before the door to her cell opens and he stalks in, tired, deflated but still with a spark of anger that is left smoldering. She is not quite sure how to handle this particular beast, one that has been so utterly wounded by a mere kiss. But she will not be afraid.

"So, what are you going to do to me?" She figures it best to get the worst of the situation out in the open first and foremost. She lets him know she expects his wrath, punishment even, in hopes that it will soothe his raw emotions. She expects coldness. She prepares for spite. But she is shocked by what comes next.

He lifts his hand towards the door and simply says "Go," and then turns his back to her. Surely she hasn't heard him correctly.

"Go?" she echoes, feeling stupid as she does so.

His shoulders finally square. "I don't want you anymore, dearie."

Her body lurches upright but her mind, her heart, are telling her to fight. So many words cascade from her brain into her mouth but there's too many of them and they crowd each other out till she says nothing. So she walks out of the cell, leaving him in his own dungeon. But she stops at the door. She has listened to him all these months of her stay here and now is the time, if he is truly throwing her out, for him to hear her piece.

Head held high, she marches back into the cell and can tell he's surprised by this by the quick turn of his head. She has planned wars in her bare feet, men's wars. She knows the mettle that is required to be a child warrior and to be a woman all at the same time. And when she starts to speak, she uses everything she has learned from her father's council room to wage a war of words with the man standing in front of her. He calls her liar, claims he loves his power more than her and she calls him a coward and lets him know that the choice he's made will have lasting repercussions.

You can fire a cannon ball into a city rampart and the hole that it leaves will never truly be filled and once you break something, it can never be returned to its former glory. Chipped cups, fractured hearts and broken spirits...they are all the same. She knows this, and staring up into his dark eyes, she realizes he knows this as well. They have left their marks on each other for all eternity, battle scars from an emotional war.

She turns on her heel, walking at a steady pace, the entire time silently begging him to stop her. She keeps up the pace until she comes to the main room where they spent most of their time together and it brings her up short. It has been completely razed. Her heart stutters and almost fails when she sees the broken spindles of the spinning wheel. As she latches her cloak and yanks the hood up, she feels a sad satisfaction that with the spinning wheel gone, he can no longer forget. And she leaves his castle, glass crunching underneath her feet and she swears the sound is coming from her heart.

Belle wakes with a start, sitting straight up. She is not in a castle, but a home. She is not in a dungeon but a nicely decorated guest room. She had been sleeping on the floor, curled up next to Mr. Gold, who was starting to wake up himself. The dream was too real, too detailed and once she replayed most of it over in her head, she realized the truth: her dreams were memories. Memories of another time and place. Different circumstances, same players. When Gold comes fully awake, he gives her a slightly shaky smile but she will have none of it.

"You threw me out."

The smile disappears. "What?"

"You told me to go, that you loved your power more than me and that you didn't want me anymore." She is shouting by the time she ends the sentence, standing on shaky legs in the middle of the room while he's struggling to his feet. "You practically handed me to her."

He's leaning on one of the wooden spires on the bed, his knee bent at a odd angle. "She told me you were dead."

"And you believed her?"

He shakes his head, looking old and tired, a lion well past his prime. "I went to your town. I listened to the people on the street and they were saying the same thing. That you had thrown your-"

"I know what they said!" she snarls, and it surprises her that she does remember the story that was told. "You never looked for me!"

His head snaps up, a small spark of that fire shining there. "She said you were dead! Your own people were saying the same! What would you have me do?"

"You should have searched every tower in the land!" Across the room, she makes firm eye contact with him. The skin had changed, the hair as well but the eyes, the eyes she would never forget. "You're still a coward, Rumpelstiltskin."

And she turned on her heel and walked out of the room. As she made her way down the stairs, she could hear him stumbling around and calling for her, but she didn't halt her retreat. As she walked through the front entrance of his home, she could swear she could still hear glass being crushed beneath her feet and she wondered if it really was the sound of her heart breaking yet again.


	14. Chapter 14

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 14**

History must not repeat itself and that is why he has to go after her. But he has wrenched his knee, his cane is one floor down, and he feels the centuries pressing down on his shoulders. But he has to go after her. The last time he had let her walk out of his home, she had been taken from him and locked up while that dark harpie used lies to convince him to give up hope. He limps and stumbles his way back down to his bedroom, each step a reminder of just how human he really is in this world. By the time his cane is in his hand, he's too worn out from the pain, lack of sleep and thorny memories that are twisting in his brain.

"_You should have searched every tower in the land!" _

He remembers going to her town, grief leadening his steps the entire journey. He had walked the entire way, his own penance for his anger, lies and cowardice. His pilgrimage that brought no comfort to his dark heart. He tried to imagine her walking the cobblestones he ghosted over at night. He listened for her voice in the marketplace. He lurked in shadows during the day and eavesdropped on the hawkers and merchants.

The whispers were all the same. Everywhere he turned, they were shaking their heads and shrugging their shoulders at the loss of their heroine, the girl who decided her own fate should lay on the flagstone two hundred feet below her. Dark, murderous thoughts swirled in his mind and the one night he spent in her town, he laid awake devising ways of killing her father. Perhaps he would lock Sir Maurice in his own tower and then he would play the part of cleric. There were some many ways though...slow acting poison, quartering, skinning...but then the memory of Belle would resurface during these horrible daydreams. Bare shouldered and confident, in possession of more bravery than the entire group of men that had gathered around her.

"_My family...my friends. They will live?" _

And he had given her his word so he left before dawn broke the next morning because Rumpelstiltskin does not alter deals. He returned to his castle, stepped through the doors and called for her before his eyes rested on the chipped cup and the grief retook it's hold on him.

He's still sitting on the edge on his bed, gripping his cane and unable to force his knee to hold him when he hears the front door open downstairs. He tries to stand but crumbles under his own weight. He is finally broken and he thinks, bitterly, that it took long enough to happen. "Belle?" His voice comes out hoarse, fatigued and dusty but he can hear footsteps on the stairs.

"No, it's me."

He looks up to see Emma standing in the doorway and he can't read the expression on her face. "Belle?"

"She's at Granny's with Mary Margret." Her face softened just a touch. "She wanted me to come check on you."

He tried to rally but realized the effort was only half-hearted. "Here I am." She hadn't fallen into the hands of Regina or one of her cronies. She was safe, for the time being.

Emma steps boldly into the room, the sunlight catches the glint of the Sheriff's badge while the black of her gun absorbs the leftover light. "She was afraid you hurt your knee but she wouldn't say how."

"I'm fine," he lies through his teeth as his knee throbs and spasms in betrayal.

Emma pulls out her cell phone. "Either you're going to the ER or the paramedics are coming here. Your choice."

"Have to admit, that doesn't sound like much a choice, now does it?"

"The last time I came into your home unannounced you had a gun trained on me. The second time I find you sitting on your bed and you haven't moved." She gives him a brief pull of a smile. "And I'm guessing from the pallor of your skin and the fine sheen sweat, you're in a world of hurt right now."

He looks out the window, at the town of Storybrooke.

A town with no happy endings.

A place where Belle is alive but she remembers all the wrong things.

"Truer words were never spoken, Sheriff." And he allows the savior to help him out to her car.


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Note: **Have to admit...dark Belle appeals to me. This could be frightening.

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 15**

All she wants is silence. She thought she had endured enough quiet to last multiple lifetimes but clearly that was not the case. Wedging herself into the corner of the booth, she tried to school her face into a brave mask but judging from the sorrowful look from Mary Margaret, there must have have been wide and gaping cracks. She didn't remember courage being this wispy and difficult to grasp. Confusion and frustration was much more concrete in this place.

"So," Mary Margaret braved a shaky smile, "have you been able to remember anything yet?"

She wanted to tell her, this open-faced and kind-hearted woman, the jumble and pieces that were her memories but apparently trust was just as ethereal as courage. She shakes her head and stares into her coffee mug.

"Do you remember Mr. Gold, at all?"

Belle feels her chest constrict, her ribs becoming iron bars around her heart and they force the truth out out of her mouth. "Yes, I do remember him." And she hates herself. She shouldn't have left him this morning but anger had clouded her vision and hardened her heart.

"_Who are you talking to?" _

"_The Queen!" He spins with more elegance than a courtesan. "Your friend the Queen. How did she get to you?" _

"_The Queen?" The woman she had met on the road had certainly been wealthy but a Queen? _

"_I knew this was a trick." He slowly stalks towards her and she realizes it's a movement she has never seen him use. After all this time, this is the first she sees a beast coiled underneath the man. "I knew you could never care for me." _

The diner's bell rings and Belle is pulled out of her memory. She wants to crawl under the table, curl up in a ball. She now has a understanding of the anger he felt, the fury at a false betrayal that fueled the utter and complete destruction of his home. She closes her eyes but she still sees the splintered spinning wheel. The seat gives next to her and when she collects herself and opens her eyes, Emma is sitting beside her.

"How is he?"

Emma tries to look nonchalant. "He's fine."

But Belle knows there is more to it than that. "Where is he?"

"He's at the ER having some scans done on his knee." Emma finally drops the act and true concern breaks through. "If you don't want to go back to his home, you don't have to. If you're uncomfortable..."

"You can come stay with us," Mary Margaret adds. "It won't be much, but you're more than welcome anytime."

"Thank you," Belle answers with a smile. "But it sounds like he's going to need some help while he recovers and I remember enough to want to help him." She doesn't tell them about a promise that is still not quite clear in her mind. A promise about being a caretaker...a promise that was suppose to last forever.

But forever made a sudden and abrupt end when a dark lady appeared in a black carriage and spoke silver tongued lies. As if thoughts could summon her, the bell over the door rang again and the dark lady entered the diner. Belle wanted to both run and fight. She wanted to hide and scratch this woman's eyes out. Since she couldn't do either, she pressed herself back against the corner of the booth. After she picks up a cup of coffee, the dark lady comes to stop by their table.

"Why Miss French, it's wonderful to see you out and about. How are you feeling?"

Belle watches her ruby red lips move over sharp white teeth and all she sees is a predator and a liar. She may be cowering in the corner of a restaurant booth but she makes eye contact and will not blink. The dark lady's smile falters, a slight crumbling in the corners of her painted mouth. Belle wishes for a dagger...a particular dagger.

It is Emma who breaks the silence. "She's not very talkative yet."

"I'm sure that will change once she's grown accustomed to her new life," the dark lady replies. "If you ever need anything, dear, don't hesitate to ask." And finally she leaves on her click-clacky heels.

Belle doesn't speak the dark daydream the Queen's statement evokes. That what she really needs is the dark lady's heart on a silver tray, just another precious trinket to keep on her Beast's shelf so that she can dust it from time to time...forever.


	16. Chapter 16

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 16**

Much like the ride to the hospital, the drive back to his home is equally silent. He was too lost in his own thoughts, most likely due to the shot of pain killers Dr. Whale had given him, and apparently Emma wasn't up for talking either. The only thing she had said to him was that Belle was with Mary Margaret and doing just fine. And that is all he can focus on at the moment.

Belle is sitting with Mary Margaret and he is grateful that the curse still has Snow White's memories safely in it's grasp. His memories are another matter altogether and with the static of pain medication, they turn to the time when Snow White came to him for an ailment...an ailment that pulled at the compassionate side of him. It was early in the morning, a dark dock with the fog drifting around them, very dramatic for one of his minor deals. Even in this life, with the faded memories of the past, he can still see the pain in Snow's eyes. It was a familiar pain, one he was well acquainted with at that point.

"_Love is the most powerful magic. The cure must be...extreme." _

_She grimaces. "Extreme sounds like an understatement." _

"_Don't doubt yourself now, dearie." Not like he did. He had his own forgetfulness potion sitting back at his castle. He was trying to decide if it was worth taking to forget about Belle. But it was he who threw her out of the safety of his home, it was he who sent her back to her narrow-minded father and cruel clergymen. It was a burden of guilt and grief that he needed to shoulder. Someone needed to remember her for who she really was: brave, kind and lovely. But that didn't mean bitterness failed to taint his views on love. _

"_Love makes us sick," he continues. "Haunts our dreams, destroys our days. Love has killed more than any disease." _

_What he doesn't tell her is of his own sickness. How a blue-eyed beauty still haunts the dark corridors of his home to the point he doesn't even drink tea anymore. How she had destroyed his life completely and utterly with a smile, sunlight and a kiss. He had been betrayed more than once in his long life but hers was the only one that blinded him enough that his beloved spinning wheel had been a casualty. He had mended it with magic but it was finicky now and had gained a new squeak. _

_Nothing is the same once it has been broken. He doesn't tell her that even though the potion will erase the memory of her love, it would not fix the damage that has already been done to her heart. She will be broken still but have no idea why. As he wanders off the dock, he realizes that is the reason his own potion is still sitting stoppered on his bedside table: he doesn't want to forget what broke him. _

Emma eases the car onto his street, most likely taking care not to jostle the steel contraption of a brace on his leg. Inflamed tendons, torn ligaments and too much scar tissue to really do anything to rectify his condition, he could have written the report himself. He hates to inform Dr. Whale of the horrible accident the brace will suffer as soon as he's through his front door. The crutches, laid out in the back seat of the car, those he would use grudgingly but he will put his foot down on the brace...most likely multiple times, depending on how quickly it breaks. When Emma pulls up to the curb in front of his house, he finally finds his voice.

"Does she have a place to stay tonight?"

Emma nods once. "Yeah, she does."

He should have expected as much. Emma, Mary Margaret and Belle would most likely be living under the same roof until the curse breaks. He supposed there were worse places she could live and with their influence, she would be accepted by the town in no time. Possibly even find happiness at some point, happiness without him and his angry words and damaged knee.

The door opens and he finds Emma standing there, crutches in one hand and the other outstretched to help him stand. The only thing to make it more humiliating is to have Regina watching this comedy of errors. But knowing how she works, the side jobs that Glass does for her, Her Majesty will most likely have pictures to gloat over for months of late night enjoyment. He has once again gone back to being the town cripple.

His thoughts are still a storm of frustration and shame that it takes Emma's hand on his arm to get him to notice the person that is coming down his front steps. She is dressed in clothes that fit her now, jeans, a silver tunic and flats. It was a far cry from a blue dress and silver heels but it was still Belle. The shock of seeing her coming out to greet them had brought him up short.

"She wanted to come back here," Emma says in explanation.

As Belle comes to his other side, he's still in so much shock he can not even voice the question that is dancing on his tongue.

"_Why did you come back?" _


	17. Chapter 17

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 17**

She can see the question in his eyes, the set of his jaw and the slope of his shoulders. It's a question he had asked her once before and she didn't have a good answer then either, she recalls.

_Why did you come back?_

Her mind won't let go of those memories just yet, not the details at least. She remembers elation, confusion, raised voices and skinned knees. She doubts that will happen this time because he is not as powerful as he was in that other life. He's on crutches and looks like a man, no longer dusted with gold, filled with sharp teeth and threats. As she puts a hand on his arm to help his ascent up the front stairs, she realizes there is no more magic in him. It delights and saddens her in ways she doesn't comprehend.

She and Emma get him into the house and settled into one of his armchairs. Emma's phone rings, it's from the station and she excuses herself. The door shuts and suddenly Belle doesn't know what to do with herself and a man she only semi-remembers. But then he reaches down and starts unlatching the brace on his leg.

"Are you sure you should be doing that?"

He doesn't answer her but she can see the stubbornness etched into every line of his face as he fights with the contraption and she wrings her hands. He's going to do to more damage she fears and finally, a shred of courage appears and she latches on to it with both hands. Dropping to her knees, she grabs his hands and it is enough to stop his dismantling of the brace.

"You're only going to make it worse if you take this off," she pleads, batting his hands away and tries to figure out how to re-latch everything he has just undone. She has an odd feeling of doing something similar to this once before but it remains one of those odd memories stuck in the back of her brain. Perhaps...she glances up from the metal to gauge his facial expression. His hands are folded in front of him and he's just staring at her, a myriad of emotions playing across his face until he notices her gaze. It's as if a curtain falls behind his eyes, he's dropped a barrier and built a wall between them. And again, this is something that feels familiar to her.

She rocks back on her heels, the brace forgotten. "Do you remember me?"

"Of course I do," he answers quietly, his voice as flat as his eyes.

"What about the details? Do you remember the small things or is it just the generalities?"

There's a crack that appears in his mask, a twitch in his cheek that tells her he remembers everything. "Why did you come back?"

She twists the edge of her sweater in her hands and drops her eyes. "Do you not want me here?"

"I want you here very much. But why do you want to be here?"

It was a question that she had asked herself while sitting on his front steps. He had answers that she needed, answers about a life before this one, but there was something else too. Like an undercurrent of sorts, something that moved instinctually and could only be felt through intuition and soul. There was an undefined connection between the two of them. Even now she fought the urge to wrap her arms around him, kiss him and make him promise to never send her away again. If she were brave, she would do that but this is Storybrooke and bravery is a thing of fairytales.

"Belle?"

She realizes he's still waiting for an answer and once more, she doesn't have a good one. "I don't know really. It's just a...a feeling. As if this is where I belong...w-with you." And she hangs her head in shame, certain he's going to laugh at her or shout. She remembers a lot of shouting the last time she expressed her feelings for him and she expects the same this time. But he remains silent, a grandfather clock ticking in the hallway was the only noise between them.

"There will be a price for that, dearie," he finally says. His voice is low, tinged with sadness and regret. "The town will turn their back on you because of your association with me. The chances of you making friends are not good and you will be a target for ill-will. Now, you need to ask yourself if that is a reasonable price for a _feeling._"

And now she sees why he has built this wall between them. He wants her to stay and it scares him. She remembers this all too familiar dance between them. It had occurred in a dungeon, she remembers the cold and stone. He was stiff backed and arrogant while she was desperate and angry. He told her to go...and she foolishly listened to him. They were both to blame for that horrible mishap, and hopefully, they both have learned from that mistake.

She forces a shaky smile. "I think it is more than reasonable."

But the wall did not tumble down. He merely leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes while she was left wondering if she had mistaken desperation for bravery.


	18. Chapter 18

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 18**

He hopes by the time he opens his eyes, she will be gone. Just another dream to enjoy and mourn when it is over. So many years had passed when all he wanted was this, having her back in his world but now that she is here, there is so much pain. He wasn't prepared for the knife twisting in his gut every time she looked at him. He wasn't ready for his lungs freezing at the scent of roses or for his heart to stutter at the tempo of her steps. He wasn't equipped for this. His armor was back in another land, gold skin and magic protecting him from this poisonous creature that was still sitting on his floor. And he remembers another time when she sat in the same position in a different home...

_It had been a simple enough request and he has loused it up. That was something he didn't think about when he brought her to his estate. He now has a witness to his foolishness. He may be the Dark One, the one who grants the most unholy of requests...that did not place him above stupidity. Shame and pain makes him grit his teeth and lock his jaw. It sours his pleasant mood and apparently ruins the timing of dinner. _

"_Let me see it." Belle is kneeling next to his chair by the fireplace, a grim look on her face. She has two small bowls set beside her, one with suds and the other fresh water but both have rags in them. _

_He closes his injured hand and moves it out of her reach. "What are you going to do with those?" _

_She squares her shoulders and holds out her hand. "You know very well what I'm going to do with them. Now show me your hand." _

"_I think you're forgetting who gives the orders around here, dearie." _

_A small smile appears at the side of her mouth. "Funny, you seemed to forget that very same thing." _

_If his hand hadn't been throbbing he would have found humor in her statement. He had been bored, which is usually the start of his foolishness, when he wandered into the kitchen. She was in the middle of making dinner and he was in the middle of watching the steam curl tendrils of her hair that had fallen loose around her face. She had asked him for a knife and he had blindly reached for one, only to grab the blade instead of the hilt. And so here he sat, like a reprimanded child, nursing a sliced palm. _

_Reluctantly, he unfurled his hand and as soon as it was in reaching distance, she had it between her own two hands. She gave it a thorough inspection, a small line appearing between her eyes, before reaching into the soapy water for the rag. She gave him an apologetic look, almost identical to the one she sported over the chipped cup. _

"_I'm afraid this is going to hurt." _

_He rested his head on his other hand. "Thanks for the warning." _

_From the look on her face, she couldn't tell if he was serious or joking and quite frankly, he didn't know either. This girl, this little living trinket he had picked up, was turning his world upside down. He was thankful for the searing pain that was leaping up his arm and banishing away the thoughts of just how she was creeping her way into his life. His instinct is to keep her as far away as possible, to protect whatever is left of his soul. But when his hand is bandaged so gently, his only indication that the ordeal is over is when Belle is leaving the room, the words rush out of his mouth while his mind scrambles to stopper the kindness. _

"_Now that you've had some time to look around, why don't you pick a room that is to your liking?" _

_The smile she gives him is the brightest he has ever seen and he tries to reconcile the fact that two weeks is enough time to assure his mind that she won't kill him in his sleep. _

He opens his eyes and she is still seated on the floor, staring at the floorboards. Rain has started to fall and it's pinging off the windows and draping the room in various shades of grey. He made up his mind to be brave when he started to seek her out. He found her, she's agreed to stay with him and he needs to push aside the pain to try to take back what they could have had back then. But she needs to remember, to put the shards of her memories back together.

"Belle?"

She turns those blue eyes towards him and he has to force himself to breathe. "Yes?"

"What do you remember?"

She shrugs and runs her fingers over the design in the oriental carpet. "It's too jumbled...nonsensical."

"Try me."

She closes her eyes and sighs. "I remember...planning wars in my bare feet."

And he smiles. His warrior is still in there.


	19. Chapter 19

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 19**

Belle is in a magical world and doesn't want to leave. She finally feels at home, surrounded by that quiet hum of magic that she had grown used to in another life..._her _other life. Gold had wanted to go to his shop today and she didn't want him going alone. He had managed to wrestle the brace off last night and was only using one crutch so she made a deal with him: she would overlook the blatant disregard of doctor's orders if he would allow her to come with him. Surprisingly, he agreed easily with the arrangement and now she was enthralled.

Her fingers dance over the glass unicorn mobile and she skirts around a pair of frightful puppets. But she can feel the magic in this place, the vibration in the air. She runs her fingers over a shelf of porcelain figurines and sneezes at the dust she unsettles. Her feet take her into the back where she locates a rag which such ease, it scares her. She's moving on instinct now and is determined to follow it through in hopes that one day she'll wake up, start a routine and suddenly remember everything.

Gold looks up from the ledger he's bent over. "What are you doing?"

"This place is filthy." She pauses, thinking that was something he should have said instead of her.

"You don't have to do that."

She smiles at how awkwardly he wears kindness. "I know."

He goes back to his ledger and she returns to the singing baubles. She handles everything, turning it over in her hands. Silverware and china, hunting knives in a small cabinet and a tarnished, bejeweled lamp that could have housed a genie, she is sure. Then she finds a treasure trove in a dark corner of the store...five book cases filled with antiquated volumes of books. She starts to knock the dust from the shelves when the bell over the door rings. Knowing it will take Gold a while to make his way from the back, she steps out from behind the cases and trinkets to greet the customer.

Her smile falters and she starts to shake at the sight of the dark eyes that greet her. All of sudden she's back in a cell, a tower...a prison. All she can see are those dark, bottomless eyes and a blood red grin over perfect white teeth. Black, white and red...she's shaking so hard she can barely stand and her voice is stolen from her by the thief known as fear.

"Hello, Miss French. How are you feeling?"

She wants to vomit. She grips the corner of the glass display case because her hands are shaking and her knees are starting to give. Her voice has still abandoned her.

"I do hope you are finding it an easy adjustment being in my town."

Belle swallows but catches the inflection on the word "my." She may be out of one prison but she has walked into another.

"Is there anything you need?" the Dark Lady asks, kindness dripping from her words like honey from a dagger.

Belle forces her head to move, a quick and jerky shake. Then she hears him moving, coming closer and she can breathe again. Until he does appear and she barely recognizes his face as he puts himself between her and the Dark Lady. The lines that had softened under the weight of memories were sharp and jagged now. His eyes had lost any sign of warm and were hard and almost as dark as the Lady's. His posture was all wrong too, all angels and sharp points. And she realized she was watching a dragon unfurl itself to protect her.

"Get out."

It came out as a low growl and Belle started to leave when the Dark Lady laughed.

"Not you, dear," she said lightly, "he was threatening me. I was surprised to see your shop open today, Mr. Gold and thought I would pay you a visit."

"She's not yours to harm or harass anymore."

"I'm not here to harass anyone. I just wanted to check on Miss French, make sure she was happy with her...arrangements."

"If she is unhappy, then she has others she can inform about it. Your presence isn't needed. Now get out."

The Dark Lady frowned slightly before a whisper of smile touched her painted lips. "You surprise me, Rumpel. I was expecting a 'please.'"

"If I must-"

"No need," she raised her hand and started to back out of the store but paused at the door. "Oh, Miss French, your father was asking about you. Perhaps you should pay him a visit. He's still recovering at the hospital. I'm sure Mr. Gold can fill in the details for you."

The door to the shop closes and the sound of the bell slowly seeps into silence. Gold turns towards her, the fight completely out of him and replaced by a stance of regret. Suddenly, the shop loses it's magic , everything stops singing and suddenly it doesn't feel anything like home.


	20. Chapter 20

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 20**

He does not know how to start a confession. Belle is standing there, eyes wide, her mouth drawn into a thin line, and he wants to kill a queen. Anger is starting to replace the shock and soon he must face her wrath. He doesn't steel himself for it; he is going to accept it this time. A deserving punishment for a horrible crime.

"My father," she starts, rage putting a tremble in her voice, "is alive?"

The question tips him off balance. "Yes." And that is all the information he provides. He can see Belle processing and he tries not to intrude.

"Why is he in the hospital?" The rage has simmered down to a slow burn of anger and he can't tell who she is angry with, him or her father. But that was about to change. It would be better to hear the truth from him than anyone else.

"Because he was badly beaten. Broken bones and a slight concussion."

And she gives him that look that only the Belle he remembered gave him backed with her unique confidence. That "I know you had a hand in this" look. She appears so terribly familiar to him he wants to weep, fall on his knees and beg her forgiveness for too many sins but he can't. She wouldn't understand without the memories to back his actions and being angry and confused is enough without adding pity for a desperate old man to the emotional mix.

"What did he do to you?" The words come out slowly, measured and deadly calm.

He tells her the same thing he told Sheriff Swan but the words feel broken now and his tone lacks the venom he had back in the woods under the flashing lights of emergency vehicles. "He stole."

"Stole what?"

_You, _he wants to say but doesn't. Instead he shakes his head. "It doesn't matter."

"It mattered enough for you to put him in the hospital." She pauses, worries her lip slightly. "Was it...something of mine?"

She was going to see her father, he was certain of that, and once Moe French was reintroduced to his daughter that would be the end of her stay with him. "Perhaps, you should ask him directly." He goes into the back and calls Emma to escort Belle over to the hospital. Thankfully, the day is going slow for her and she agrees to come immediately. He can hear doubt in her voice and it amplifies his own. Belle will meet her father, her flesh and blood. Her sympathy will take over and she will have a new patient to care for, one that doesn't have poison in their tongue and a lack of magic in their veins.

"Who did you call?"

Belle is standing in the doorframe of the backroom. Fear is etched in every line of her body and she looks ready to run.

"I was merely phoning Sheriff Swan. She'll go with you over to the hospital so you can visit your father."

The anger is completely gone now. "You think I'm not going to come back."

He smiles sadly. "I would be very surprised if you did."

She crosses the space quickly, straightens her posture and meets his eyes. "Did my father know I was alive?"

He so wants to speak the truth, tell her that her father was the one who agreed to her imprisonment in this world. But he was the one responsible for what happened to her in the other world. He wants to tell her that he loves her, more than any other man she will ever met, including her father but truth is thorny and difficult to push past his throat. Lies are smooth and liquid, more palatable than the bitterness of truth.

"I don't know for certain," he finally manages.

She starts to say something when the bell over the door rings and stops her. Emma's voice carries through the shop.

"Gold? Miss French?"

"Coming," Belle calls before turning back to him. "I will be back. You have my word."

And he watches her leave, hears the door close and fights the tears. He wants to kill a Queen for taking something twice from him now that she had no business to take in the first place.


	21. Chapter 21

**Author's Note: **91 reviews...almost to 100...I feel like I should do something special for everyone when I hit 100. Any suggestions?

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 21**

Belle fights the urge to take her shoes off and tries to shake the trembling out of her finger tips. She never thought she would have to go back to her prison. The smell alone settles the solitude back into her chest and removes the last few days of freedom and memories. She wants to feel the floor under her bare feet, she wants to walk back out into the sun. She wants Rumpelstiltskin and that frightens her more than the hospital. But Emma stops outside an open door and gives her a shaky smile.

"Don't leave me."

Emma looks slightly surprised. "I can wait outside. Give you two some time alone."

Belle peeks around the doorframe at the man sitting in his wheelchair. She doesn't recognize him, at all. There is no pull towards this man, not like there was with her sad, angular pawnbroker who thinks she's not coming back. "I don't want to be left alone with him."

The Sheriff looks confused but complies. Belle follows in her brave wake but loses resolve when the injured man turns his head and his eyes fall on Belle. Without thinking, she slips her shoes off her feet and feels courage creep it's way up her legs with the cold connection of the floor.

"Anna?"

She pauses and the thought crosses her mind to tell him that is not her name. But she still doesn't understand this world, what information is able to be retrieved and what is still hidden. She has gathered that she knows more than she should but can't piece it together so the threat she poses is minimal.

"Annabelle," he tries again, with a faltering smile. And it's close enough for her to continue her advance. She has planned wars with men, something tells her with this man in particular, but there is no connection. She folds her hands primly in front of her and waits.

"Where are you staying, Anna?" he asks finally. "Are you staying with the Sheriff? You know, they're sending me home in a couple days. You can stay with me. Would you like that?" He reaches out towards her. "Would you like to come home with your old man?"

She leans away from the hand he's offered her and tries to mask her unease with politeness. "No, thank you, Mr. French. I'm staying with Mr. Gold and wish to remain there."

He recoils. "Gold? Why?"

There were so many answers to give him but he wouldn't understand any of them so she uses the most simplistic explanation. "He cared enough to make sure I regained my freedom. He offered me a home and I accepted it." She squares her shoulders. "He's not a monster."

"You do know he's the one who did this to me? Beat me half to death with his cane and now you're _living_ with him?" He looks to the Sheriff. "Isn't there anything you can do to stop this?"

Belle starts shaking. She does not want anything to stop except the look of outrage and disgust on her father's face. But Emma rises to her defense.

"Mr. Gold has shown himself to be completely agreeable to the situation and has treated your daughter with the utmost respect and kindness. Besides, she's an adult and able to make decisions on her own."

"She just got out of the mental ward. Has she even been cleared psychologically?"

"She has," Emma answered, short and to the point.

"I want to see that report."

"I'm right here!" She didn't realize she had yelled until a nurse pokes her head in the room and asks if everything is alright. Emma assures her everything is fine and puts a comforting hand on Belle's until she stops shaking.

"Anna, he beat me with his cane over a tea cup. Can't you understand why I'm worried for you?"

Gold's words came back to her, echoing in her ears. _He stole...he stole...he stole. _"A tea cup?" Why couldn't she remember?

"Anna, please. Come home with me," he begs. "I'm...I'm going to need someone to help me. And-"

"You want me to be your nursemaid."

"You're my daughter."

Finally, courage wells up in the spring underneath her breastbone. "You are my father, but I decide my own fate now." And she turns on her toes, curled against the cold linoleum floor and begins her search for a tea cup.


	22. Chapter 22

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 22**

She hadn't been gone more than an hour when his cell phone rang. He saw the Sheriff's office number appear on the caller ID and he knew she wasn't coming back. Emma was just calling out of consideration of the situation and he was prepared for this. What child in their right mind wouldn't want to be in a home with their parent?

"Sheriff Swan, I presume?"

"You better get back over to your house."

It was the Sheriff but her voice tense, taut with concern and unease. It bled through the phone and into his stomach. "What's the matter?"

"Well, things didn't go-"

A loud crash drowned out the words and the sound of glass hitting the ground echoed dully through the connection.

"That was your front door," Emma commented dryly. "Sorry about that."

He didn't even bother with the crutch, but grabbed a cane from the back for the walk to his house. "Why are you breaking into my home?"

"I'm not," she answered, glass crunching as she was entering his house, "Annabelle French is. I think she's looking for a tea cup and if you care about anything in here, now would be the time to tell me where it is."

"I'll be there shortly, Sheriff." She was looking for the tea cup and quite frankly, he cared little whatever destruction she was wreaking in his home. Let her tear the shingles off the roof and break out every window, it didn't matter anymore. The pain in his knee seemed to fade and his pace picked up. She was looking for the tea cup...she was looking for the tea cup. She remembered and she came back to him. She was in her right mind.

Emma was standing in the doorway of his house, one foot inside, the other out and concern painting worry lines on her face. At least Belle had broken the clear portion of the glass and not the stained part. It would be easily replaced but that was far from his mind. Emma pointed in the direction of the dining room and he could hear the desperate movements of things being moved and ransacked.

Belle had the doors open to his china cabinet, dishes piled up on the massive cherry table. He had watched her do this so many times back in the castle. She had handled everything with such care and gentleness, he would make excuses to be in the room while she cleaned the china just to watch her handle his trinkets with her careful fingers. But this is not how she is handling his things now. There is a desperation in her actions, her hands searching for memories and not finding them.

"Belle."

She stops, straightens and turns wild, wide blue eyes towards him. She tries to smooth her hair, straightens her sweater and rests her palms against her jeans. "Gold."

"Looking for something, dearie?"

She lifts her chin, royal and dignified. "The tea cup that caused you to beat my father half to death. I want to know why it is so important to you. Where is it?"

And then he realizes, she is not in her right mind. She does not remember like he had hoped and he feels the weight of a grindstone being tied around his neck. The pain in his knee makes itself known and the familiar feeling of hopelessness settles down comfortably in his chest once more. He limps over to the lower left hand portion of the cabinet and opens the door. Reaching back into the belly of the structure, he pushes on the faux wall and it springs open. His fingers brush the cool porcelain and he slowly pulls it from its hiding place.

Belle takes it from him, her hands suddenly gentle as she turns it over and over in her hands. Her fingers dance over the chip, trace the dainty blue flower pattern but there is no recognition in her eyes, no dawning memories breaking out across her face. Instead, the hue of blue in her eyes oscillate between icy coldness and blue-hot anger.

"This? This is what my father stole?"

"Yes," he admits, quiet and hushed. Emma's eyes are still on them and he wishes she would just go.

"You beat my father for a chipped cup?"

And the grindstone pulls his head down. "Yes."

"Why?"

And he suddenly finds his mouth is filled with dust and words have dried up on his tongue. She wants him to answer, he can see it in her eyes but he can't. He can't give her his memories, his reasons for blindly attacking a man over a piece of broken china. So he remains silent, even as her anger and frustration grows. He keeps his peace even as he sees her hand curl around the delicate cup but he has to close his eyes as she throws the cup against the wall. All he can hear is it shattering and it seems to take forever for silence to ebb back into the house.

"And now," Belle's voice wavers on the brink of tears, "what will you do to me?"

He can hear Emma shifting on the loose floorboards in the entryway. He can hear Belle shaking, her racing heartbeat and uneven breaths. He can even hear the settling of the pieces of the cup as the fine china dust settles. And he can not be angry with her for she is not in her right mind.

"Nothing, dear," he finally responds. "However, it does seem as if you've left me with just an empty heart now, so if you will excuse me." And he leaves the two women in the wreckage of broken glass and destroyed memories as he retreats into the darkest areas of his home, a wounded dragon limping off to his cave to lick his wounds.


	23. Chapter 23

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 23**

_An empty heart..._

Belle's ears were ringing with those words. Her eyes fell on the shattered pieces of porcelain across the room.

_A chipped cup..._

And suddenly her dreams of sitting in a damp dungeon, with a tea set waiting for a storm to settle outside her locked door, slam into reality with such force it drives her to her knees. She can see his face clear as day, the fragile mask of indifference that lays over the lines of hurt and betrayal. He thought it was a trick, all a sick, twisted trick of the Queen. So he stood before her, releasing her from the contract of forever being his caretaker. He pushed her out of his home with cold statements that disappeared like snow flakes falling into warm water. But she was just as hurt, just as betrayed as he was and reacted in the same manner.

_So, you've made your choice. All you'll have is an empty heart, and a chipped cup. And you will regret it, forever._

But now she's taken the cup from him. She realizes she must have been the one to chip it but the details still float around her mind, unwilling to come together. It didn't matter, really, not now. She crawls across the floor, tears hitting the thick Persian carpet with dull, tiny thuds. She had taken his heart and now she has taken his cup. She is left wondering who is the cruel one between them?

"Annabelle?"

She sees gold curls out of the corner of her eye and realizes that Emma has born witness to the whole ordeal. A new sense of shame comes over her. Emma must think she's truly insane now, breaking into a strange man's home, tearing apart his cupboards and throwing tea cups. Perhaps it would be better for all of them if she did return to a cell.

"I'm sorry," she finally manages through her tears. "I am so very sorry."

Emma tries to soothe her but the Sheriff is awkward with emotions and can't quite seem where to put her hand or what to do with it. "It's just a cup."

"It's more than that." Belle reaches out and picks up a shard of the handle. "It was a memory."

"You remember?"

"I remember that this was very special to him because I chipped it." Her chest caves in with the force of realization. "This was all he had left of mine." And her father had taken it from him, without truly realizing what it was he had stolen; he had taken the Beauty from the Beast. He had suffered the consequences and Belle could not find fault in what transpired between her father and the man hiding in his own home.

Belle started picking up the pieces of the cup. "I have to fix this."

Emma looks resigned as she stands up. "I'll look for some super glue."

Soon, the two of them are bent over the kitchen counter, meticulously glueing together something that is resembling a tea cup. Emma starts out with the base because Belle's hands are shaking too much and tears keep causing her vision to become cloudy in shimmering waves. Determination soon takes over and Belle starts to add slivers of porcelain to the portion that Emma has started for her. They're almost done when the station calls Emma and she has to excuse herself. Belle sees her to the door, realizes she should sweep up the broken glass still in the entryway, before returning to the kitchen.

The cup is in one piece though it will never hold liquid again. Fissures mark the white background, hundreds of tiny, little cracks, and she wonders if this is what their hearts look like now. So many words thrown at each other, dungeons, torture, fleeting touches and a brief kiss by a spinning wheel that each added a crack to them until finally they shattered under the weight of the world. She finds paper and a pen and writes two words that she should have said a lifetime ago to him.

_I'm sorry._

She leaves both the note and the cup on the counter, cleans up the glass and closes herself up in her room for the rest of the evening. It is his house and he should have the freedom to move about in it as he pleases.

She gets up the next morning and creeps downstairs to the kitchen to see if he had seen her peace offering. At first she doesn't think he has as the cup is exactly where she left it with the note next to it. Frowning, she enters the room to find she was wrong. He had seen it and left a two word message himself.

_Me too._


	24. Chapter 24

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 24**

He can hear her moving around the house, the floorboards are giving her away. He imagines her examining the various things he has collected from this world. He is safely sequestered on the screened in porch on the back of the house. It would take her a while to make it back there but he can still hear her movements. He so wants her to be comfortable here, happy if that is even possible. So he will sit on the back porch, enjoy the unusually warm spring morning and listen to Belle reacquaint herself with his home.

Closing his eyes, he remembers another warm morning filled with bright sunlight. It was just a few weeks after she had left his castle and he used that time to say everything he should have said to her. His words fell on objects and bounced off walls, things that were completely unmoved by his pleas for forgiveness and fumbled explanations as to why he was so terribly suspicious of anyone showing kindness towards him. He had trusted a beggar once...but that was more than a few lifetimes ago. How was he suppose to trust a beauty who had morphed from a captive into something captivating?

_He had stopped locking the doors to his home just in case Belle decided to return and he wasn't there. He was standing by the spinning wheel, just feeling the wood slide across his palm, letting it soothe his raw nerves and hopefully mend the pieces of what passed as a heart for him. When the doors opened behind him, he was certain it was Belle, certain he would turn around and there she would be, worrying her bottom lip and asking to come back. No one altered their deals with him._

"_Flimsy locks." _

_And his teeth gnashed together, his jaw tightened and he wanted to break things again just to hear something else shatter other than himself. _

"_I have a deal to discuss," Regina announced, completely oblivious to just how dark his mood was running that day. "A certain, mermaid." _

_He forced himself to breathe through his nose and concentrate once again on the smooth wood and the new squeak in the wheel. He steadied his voice, dropping it a few octaves in hope to disguise the frailty and slight waver. Too many days of raving at the walls have made him slightly hoarse. "I'm not dealing today." _

"_Are you angry with me?" She helped herself to the tea on the table. "What is it this time?" _

_He's come to realize that even though Regina planted the idea in Belle's head, the kiss had been genuine. He felt the effects, there was no mistaking that, and he knew better than anyone that the magic of love was something that couldn't be forced or faked. She had loved him, loved him enough to come back on her own. Loved him enough to try to save him from himself. But this dance between Regina and him is much more familiar than Belle's innocent advances. He knows the steps, can follow the rhythm of the words without knowing the song and it is a dance that will take them both into the hellfires. _

"_Your little deception failed." He needles her, strikes at her ego and so called cleverness. It has always been a sore spot with her. "You'll never be more powerful than me. You can keep trying, dearie, but you're never going to beat me." He says it like it is truth and it very well may be, but Belle has stripped __him of something and he can't quite figure out what it is. His words, though said with complete sincerity, lack their usual venom. And Regina picks up on it. _

_She smiled and simpered, batting thick eyelashes. "Is this about the girl I met on the road?" _

_He turned his head so she couldn't see the pain in his face though she can probably notice traces of it in the line of his shoulders. She must because he can hear her murmured laugh. _

"_What was her name?" _

_Belle. He clamped his mouth shut, he will not give her the satisfaction._

"_Margie?" _

_Belle. His resolve is crumbling, he wanted to taste her name on his tongue once more. _

"_Verna." _

_But no matter his resolve, her name slips out, sounding just as broken as he feels. "Belle." _

"Yes?"

Gold's eyes fly open and there is Belle, standing in the doorway of the porch, staring at him expectantly. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she's dressed in the usual jeans and t-shirt that everyone else wears in this world. But she is shoeless and her bare toes are curling into the cold brick and he smiles. She came back after all and he now has a chance to say those things to her that only the walls of the Dark Castle heard.

"I was just lost in thought," he explains. "I didn't realize I was speaking aloud."

She gives him that sly, half-mouth smile that was truly Belle. "Sounds like you've been alone for too long."

"Indeed."

She steps into the porch and takes the chair next to his. "I've been alone for too long as well. But not anymore."

He remembers to breathe through his nose, reminds himself that this is not a dream. He doesn't know this dance, this movement of honesty and caring. He needs someone to teach him and his instructor is now seated less than two feet away. She came back to him and she is real and alive...his brave girl did not throw herself off a tower. All those words that he wants to say are just too many and he can't weed through them to find anything of intelligence. But Belle speaks for him.

"If I didn't know any better, I would say that you're happy I'm here."

A familiar, cheeky grin slides into place on his face. "Well, I'm not unhappy."


	25. Chapter 25

**Author's Note: **I apologize for my evilness...I really do.

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 25**

She has read far too many words over the course of her life and can not come up with any for the quiet man sitting next to her. She has poured over so many books and yet she can't quite piece together her own story. Belle takes comfort in the fact that the pages of her story are floating around, she just needs to find each piece and rebind them. But she does have a partial foundation and with a few questions, she should be able to complete it. She just needs to screw up her courage and ask them.

"So," she starts, knotting her hands together in nervousness, "how long am I allowed to stay here with you?"

His long fingers are steepled in front of his face, he looks wary. "For as long as you like, dear."

That wasn't the answer she anticipated. "And what am I to do for you while I'm here?"

"Whatever you wish."

She frowns in confusion. These pieces aren't fitting in the foundation she has already built. She remembers going with him, _it's for forever dearie, _and taking care of his home and himself, when the situation warranted it.

He laughs softly. "You don't look happy with those stipulations."

Honesty in every situation was always best. "Those stipulations were not the ones I remember."

Gold's eyebrows raise and he sits up straighter in the wicker chair. "Really? And what stipulations do you remember?"

She bites her bottom lip and stares at the interwoven fingers in her lap. "What happens if I don't remember correctly?"

"What happens if you do?"

He looks so hopeful and she finds that her courage isn't as elusive as it feels. "I remember making a deal with you, but I can't remember all the details, just that it was for...forever." The words were coming easier now. "I remember being in your home, cleaning it and cooking for you." A wry smile makes its way across her face. "Trying to cook for you."

"You progressed nicely."

He's smiling at her now, with genuine warmth and she can't help but bask in it. But that still didn't solve her memory issue. "So, if the deal was for forever..."

"There are no more deals between us," his sudden joy dissipates into the trademark sadness the he wears like a beloved coat. "You were released from that particular contract."

"Well, that doesn't sound fair to you."

"And it does to you? Bargaining for a person?"

She opens her interlocked fingers. "I agreed to the bargain, didn't I?"

He seems to mull that over for a few moments. "Perhaps you didn't know to what you were agreeing?"

Finally, she feels some familiarity with this banter. She can almost imagine the vast expanse of a castle behind her, a fire roaring in the main hall fireplace and suddenly, she feels at home. She moves from her chair to the ottoman in front of him. "I may remember bits and pieces but I remember enough to know I was happiest there, with you."

And he looks like she has wounded him with a dagger thrust to his chest. Immediately, she moves to soothe the injury she has unknowingly created but her hands hover, unsure of how to proceed. But then he takes her fluttering hands into his own and bows his head over them. His words are rushed and whispered, but she catches every single one of them, like butterflies in a net.

"I want you to be happy here too."

She flexes her fingers in his grip, the physical contact so very welcome after such a lengthy time without it. She watches his face, waiting for his troubled eyes to finally make their way to her face. When they do, she sees so much hope and wonder in them that it steals her breath. All the words she has read, all the stories she learned aren't enough for this moment, but she knows what would suffice. She starts to lean towards him and is surprised when he moves towards her as well. Her eyes slide close and the doorbell rings, shattering the connection between them.

When she opens her eyes, they are back to being awkward strangers once more.


	26. Chapter 26

**The Curse Breakers**

**Chapter 26**

Gold was murderous, and the red-misted vision only became more vivid the closer he came to the front door. If Emma thought the incident with Moe French was bad, just wait until his neighbors called her for the messy homicide he was about to commit on the person who was standing on the other side of wood and glass. Grinding his teeth and setting a razor sharp set of words on his tongue, he swung the door open.

"Hi, Mr. Gold."

"Henry?" The name rushes out in the breath he had been holding. It was the boy, Emma's boy. He refused to see the child as Regina's and it protects the child even now from his wrath. It wouldn't do to upset the savior, not yet at least, and the venom dies against the back of his teeth. "What are you doing here?"

"I was wondering if I could talk to Miss French for a few minutes." The boy holds a large book up for him to read the title so he acts as if he reads the words. He is well acquainted with this particular tome. "I don't have a lot time. I came right from school but I have to meet my mom at the diner at 5."

Belle would have his head if he was rude to a child, so he forces a smile and steps aside. Perhaps this will be profitable, showing Belle her very own story. Henry ambles into the house without a shred of fear for the dragon's lair he has entered, completely oblivious to Gold's dark and brewing anger over the interruption. He shuts the door with a shaking hand, wanting nothing more but to rush back to the porch and thoroughly kiss the woman who deserved so much more than he had to offer. He wanted to stabilize those shaking hands in her hair-

"Hello."

Belle has come from the back of the house, most likely hearing the door shut and though it was safe to investigate. Her eyes are on the boy sitting in the front room with the giant book in his lap as she enters the room cautiously.

"Hi," Henry answers with a wide smile. "I'm Henry."

Belle looks from the child to Gold. "The Mayor's son?"

"Actually, I'm Emma's son," Henry answers, which only succeeds in confusing Belle further so Henry shrugs. "It's a long story."

Gold puts a hand on Belle's arm and finds once more his world rights itself. "I think he wants to share a story with you from his book. If you're willing?"

Her face brightens, as it always did when she was promised a story. "I think that's a lovely idea." She immediately takes a seat next to Henry on the couch and together they share the book, laying it across both their laps.

Gold retreats into the darkened parts of his home. He doesn't go too far out of earshot and catches whispers of ogres, castles, queens, a beauty and her beast. He finds himself thankful for answering the door and allowing the boy into his home. When he passes close enough to the front room, he can see Belle concentrating so hard on the pages in front of her eyes, her fingers dancing over the words and tracing pictures as she recognizes her own history. He can see the memories starting to piece themselves back together in her mind and then shine through her eyes.

The time passes quickly and he needs to interrupt the two believers sitting in his front room. It wouldn't do to have Henry be late for his meeting with Regina. The less suspicious she is, the better for all of them. Belle grabs her shoes that are sitting by the front door and slips her feet into them.

"We should walk with him," she says, hurriedly. "We'll hang back a block from the diner."

And when she looks at him, he sees the girl draped in gold once more. The girl who ripped down his nailed curtains, chipped a tea cup, took ownership of his heart and he will deny her nothing now. Henry looks extremely pleased with himself, especially when he sees Belle slip her hand into Gold's, and decides to walk a few feet ahead of them. They do as Belle asked, and stop a block from the diner. Together, they wave Henry on to his meeting and Belle finally speaks.

"You're certain you want me under your roof again?"

"If you're certain you want to be there."

Her expression takes on a mix of amusement and consternation. She doesn't look lost anymore. "I want to know what you want. No riddles, no trickery and no deals."

Her seriousness touches him but he can see that echo of a smile dancing around her mouth. "You're limiting me greatly here, dearie." And he finds just how easy it is to fall in love with her all over again. No magic to interfere here, not in Storybrooke, Maine. No ogres and their pointless wars, no evil queens riding through the forest to deceive innocent housekeepers. Now, they are just a lame pawnbroker and a mental patient who can finally have their happy ending.

She slips under his arm, settles next to his side, her curves fitting into the straight planes of his body. She knows the answer to her own question. "Do you believe me now?" she asks simply as they start the walk back to his home, no..._their_ home.

"About what, dear?"

She looks affronted at his question. "About this being true love."

"I believed you when you first said it."

"Hm, based on your reaction, that was not the impression I had."

No, he was a coward back then and desperately trying to prove how he had overcome that classification. "How can I prove it to you now?"

She stops and turns, a beautifully familiar smile on her face. "Kiss me."

And suddenly he doesn't know what to do with his hands, he can feel the entire town's eyes on him and his heart is either going to break through his ribcage or stop completely. And he realizes he's still a coward, even in this land. But Belle is brave enough for the both of them and bends his head towards her, pressing her lips to his.

His hands find their place along her spine. His heart drops into rhythm with hers. Instead of the town's eyes, he feels something different...something strange, warm and...soft. They both break away as numerous colorful objects float down from the sky in a flurry. Red, pink, yellow, white...Gold is stunned at the display while Belle laughs joyously.

"Are you doing this?" she asks.

He stretches out his hand to catch one of the culprits and finds a rose petal situated in his palm. Looking around, the entire town is slowly being covered in rose petals of every shade. He takes a staggering step back, immediately regretting the movement but the pain in his knee never shows itself. The cane drops to the sidewalk and suddenly he's upright, leg straight and holding his weight.

Magic has come to Storybrooke.

Belle has returned to him.

They have broken their own curse.

Belle steps back into his arms as rose petals collect in her hair. "Kiss me again, it's working."

**The End**

**Author's Note: **Thank you, thank you everyone who has followed this story, enjoyed, left a review or PM...just thank you from the bottom of my heart.


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